


I Think We're Alone Now

by herbologists



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Pining, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbologists/pseuds/herbologists
Summary: Jyn is forced to come to terms with her feelings for her best friend. She'd rather be drunk. All wedding, no funeral.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 17
Kudos: 96





	I Think We're Alone Now

**Author's Note:**

> I am not responsible for this. It came to me in a dream.

With a relieved, slightly tipsy exhale, Jyn pushes the silver plated French doors leading to the back gardens open. A soft summer breeze is waiting to greet her, rustling through her loosely curled hair as she steps out onto the quiet terrace. The porch is illuminated by strings of glittering fairy lights, crossing back and forth above her head like constellations, cutting into the dark of the night with the tiniest, purest glow. She leaves one door open just a hair, the low hum of chatter and classical instrumental following her as she crosses the seasoned, charmingly creaky hardwood to lean against the deck railing where thick cords of vines adorned with white sweet smelling blossoms encircle the balusters, stretching out along the brick, curling like beckoning fingers around the posts propping the balcony above. She rests her elbows atop the railing, lazily hanging her head as she absently traces the tip of her finger along the spiked curve of a flowered vine. Her shoulders slump as she relaxes, finally alone with her thoughts, her escape a mighty success.

She's never cared much for grand parties. The clamoring noise was almost unbearable to the common introvert, and small talk was _far_ beyond her, her social missteps often leaving her on the outs when she _did_ make the rare attempt; as if she gave a damn about the weather or _commute_ times. _Ugh._ Most of all, she _loathes_ the constant pressure to force a perfect smile, to sit still, to look pretty. _Cross your legs, curl your hair, smile, Jyn, you've got such a lovely smile._ When she was young, she'd had her fill of sophistication; her cheeks pinched to bits by relatives and business associates she couldn't, and didn't care to, name, scolded by her mother for romping through the mud in her nicest ruffled dress, her father's disappointed sigh stinging more than she'd ever thought it could when she arrived an hour late to some flashy gala, stinking of bad boys and cigarette smoke. She'd never felt like she belonged, not _really_. _Her_ idea of a party amounted to a handful of close friends, those who didn't ask her for anything except what toppings she wanted on her pizza, and whiskey, _definitely_ whiskey, not the expensive bubbly she's been pretending to enjoy all night, flute after flute to wash down the bitter taste in her mouth. The back veranda was the perfect place to sneak off to for a bit of fresh air, and a quiet moment to gather her bearings, the well-kept grounds vast and green before her.

This long weekend _should_ have been the perfect getaway; her own room in this elegant, yet somehow quaint manor, all the food and drink she could ever hope to consume, her closest friends all gathered in one place, rare as it was. She _should_ be celebrating Leia's marriage with a genuine smile, nothing forced or faked. Instead, she's spent the majority of her time here hiding in dimly lit corners, having claimed several bottles of champagne as her own, drinking her feelings to the point of dizziness. Some vacation _this_ was. She'd almost rather be back at home, elbow deep in her caseload, exchanging the bubbly for vanilla flavored caffeine. At least then she would be able to avoid _him_. She couldn't very well lock him out or ignore his text messages when he'd received a formal invitation. Hell, they were practically _expected_ to be each other's plus one's. Truthfully, she hadn't counted on dodging him being so difficult; he suffocated her, crowded her, even when he was clear across the reception hall. How he'd learned to set a room on fire, she didn't know, but out here in the night with no dark eyes trailing heat along her bare shoulders, she can finally breathe.

Leaning forward, she looks up to the full moon, watches as her beams break through gaps in the passing clouds, a perfect mirror image reflected down into the pond below. An artfully overgrown willow tree sways in the light wind, the thin whip-like fronds and sparse white-green leaves brushing across the water's surface like lingering fingertips. Resting her cheek against the heel of her hand, she listens intently to the faint sound of trickling water, the crickets chirping in the tall reeds. The scent of fresh lavender wafts towards her, and ignoring the persistent thump in her temple, the heavy ache in her heeled feet, her eyes slowly drift shut, the peaceful atmosphere swathing her.

Leia had fallen in love with this place after her tour, ringing Jyn at an ungodly hour to joyously scream that she'd _finally_ found the perfect wedding venue. To be fair, the estate _was_ beautiful; winding, rustic, the common grounds and grape clad vineyards stretching as far as the eye could see. Love was positively _leaking_ out of every plank, ever brick, an absolutely nausea inducing amount, but not for her. She's spent the last two days helping prepare for the reception, a noticeably hollow feeling in her chest, something clenching tight each time she tries to draw a full a breath. Thus far, she's done her best to remain passive, saving her spiraling for later when she had access to the high pressure showerhead at home and the liquor she kept under the bathroom sink (in case of emergencies). There was nothing quite like a shower cry, but this was neither the time nor the place for it, what with Leia floating around as if she had wings attached to her shoes, and Han's jokes becoming more endearing than irritating. They were _in love_ , and it was sickening and adorable all at once. As sour and gnawing as her cynicism was, she couldn't bring herself to let it show.

It had taken Jyn three long hours to drive up from the city, her dress and the flowers she'd been tasked with delivering delicately tucked into the back of her tiny car. She'd been a bundle of nerves the entire trip, even considering stopping for smokes, a habit she'd kicked long before, knuckles white on the steering wheel, radio unusually silent. She'd fought the urge to pick at her fresh manicure, apprehensively thinking of the dreaded heels Leia had insisted she wear, and _Cassian_.

Mostly, _always_ , she'd been thinking of Cassian.

It had been three months since they'd last spoken or seen each other, and not for the lack of effort on his part. The thick knot in her throat had tightened as she'd crested the rolling hill and passed through the wrought iron gate, the sight of his familiar, sleek car parked alongside Bodhi's greeting her like a punch to the gut. She'd stopped in the shade by the fountain, heart sinking into the dirt as she noticed the necklace she'd accidentally left inside after a beach trip some years before hanging over his center mirror, the crystal sparkling in the morning sunlight. There were many times she could have taken it back, but she liked it there, a little piece of her with him wherever he went. Then, he'd gone across the world, and she'd felt like so many of her pieces were missing, spaces inside that she hadn't realized were taken now so unbearably empty. Looking at the necklace, she'd thought it was silly to still wonder if he thought of her when it sent kaleidoscopes across his dash, but she'd wondered anyway, long after Leia had come out to hug her before whisking her away to help "set up" (start drinking).

They'd passed under a high balcony as they cut through a mossy side garden, their boots squelching over the dew-covered mud, Leia happily prattling away, glowing from the inside out. Jyn had wondered at that sort of happiness, what it would be like to know such a thing. Her musings were cut short when a boisterous shout came from above, both girls craning their necks to see who was making such a ruckus. _Of course_ it had been Han, Leia's scoundrel of a fiancé. He'd leaned against the wooden railing, beer bottle dangling over the edge, making wise cracks with a side of the usual leer, but even that had fallen short, his smile genuine and his eyes disgustingly soft when he winked at Leia. Jyn had rolled her eyes, her scowl stormy against the backdrop of chirping birds and golden sunrays.

She hadn't noticed Cassian until it was too late, whatever snarky comment she'd been about to make to Han dying on her lips as he came into view, beer in hand, sharp in his blue flannel. The corner of his mouth had ticked up, their eyes meeting, her heart stuttering comically out of its usual rhythm. Had he always looked like that? Lean, a sunlit tan crackling across his skin. Or was it just her, seeing him in a new light? In the moment, she'd wanted nothing more than to climb the staircase between them and throw herself at him, the distance melting away to nothing with the touch of his hand on her cheek. He would welcome her, he would hold her, he would forgive her. All she had to do was take that first step.

Naturally, she'd done the exact opposite, turning away from him, tromping after Leia with heavy feet, a shroud of stone coffining her heart.

She'd known there was no way she could dodge him the entire weekend, as she was to be seated beside him during the ceremony, the arrangements having been made long before he'd been sent abroad for work, but she certainly hadn't planned on talking to him any more than what was required, avoidance her last ditch effort to preserve some of her dignity. She couldn't imagine what he thought of her when she _herself_ thought she was the _worst,_ and maybe she didn't want to know, anyway. She'd made a choice, and while she wasn't sure it had been the right choice, there was no taking it back now, nothing to be done but soldier through, chin up, and hope he didn't ask any questions she'd rather choke than answer.

When it came to Cassian, there had been no grand gesture that pushed the pieces into place for her, no dramatic realization of feelings. She'd slipped into them like she slipped into warm water, easy, with a peaceful sigh. One moment, he had just been Cassian, and the next, he was _Cassian;_ true, kind, clever Cassian. She had simply woken up one morning, shortly after he'd flown out of the country, and as naturally as she took a breath, thought: _I love him._ In supermarket romance novels, that would have been the part where a weight she hadn't known she'd been carrying would lift, her shoulders straightening, but it hadn't. She'd been just short of miserable, constantly aching for someone oceans away. She'd talked herself in circles, _tell him, don't, tell him, don't_ on a loop.

In the end, she'd chosen silence, that distant-until-now fear of rejection becoming all too real, and dug her heels in, letting his phone calls go unanswered, leaving his texts unread, afraid she'd blurt out the truth the moment he said hello, his familiar exhale lingering in her ear. Even after he'd returned, she's steered clear, shamefully missing the homecoming party Luke and Bodhi had thrown. Leia had given her a right earful for that one, frustrated to the point she had to walk away, growling, unable to understand as Jyn grasped at excuses like cheap straws. It hadn't surprised her when his calls became infrequent, then eventually stopped completely. It had hurt, more than she ever cared to admit, but it was better, she thought, than spilling her guts and being left alone to mop up the bloody mess.

When the ceremony rolled around, Jyn had expected him to be irritated at being stuck with her, but save for the stiffness in his shoulders, and how he kept a safe, polite distance between them, he'd been almost normal, even teasing her lightly as she attempted to discreetly dab at a tear during the vows. It was the only part of the nuptials she could clearly remember, his thigh so near to touching hers it was almost worse than if he'd pressed close, the dimple in his cheek deepening as a grandma on Han's side passed him a tissue to hand her. Reeling at their proximity, she'd all but run from him when the reception had started, his hand entirely too hot as it rested comfortably on her shoulder for just a moment while he passed her. She'd sought out Bodhi for comfort, and a smile that filled her with ease instead of stopping her heart. Her gentle, brown-eyed friend had taken pity on her, whisking her off to the dance floor. After, she'd successfully avoided him for most of the night, save for when Bodhi would spin her, Cassian the only part of the crowd that would stand out to her as she turned. He always seemed to be _just_ glancing away, as unable to look at her as she was him, and unable to help it, anyway. Once, she'd caught him watching her as Bodhi dipped her, and she'd looked at him upside down, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments before she was brought back up. She'd spent the rest of the dance with her cheek pressed tight to Bodhi's chest, wondering if he really did look wistful, and _sad_ , or if it had just been her angle. When she snuck peaks at him later, he'd been closed off, still smiling and easy-going, but his eyes had shuttered, whatever truths she'd been hoping to find there hidden away.

Her relationship— _friendship,_ her _friendship_ —with Cassian had begun years before, shortly after she'd graduated from the Police Academy. He was already a high-ranking Detective by the time she'd joined the force, and while he hadn't seemed thrilled they were partnered, he'd begrudgingly taken her under his wing. They'd spent months butting heads, arguing over trivial things, each case they worked together straining her patience and sanity. Eventually, she'd come to appreciate him, to trust him; his unwavering faith, his refusal to give less than all he could, his eagerness to help others no matter the personal cost. With his help and encouragement, she's found her own convictions, and slowly climbed the ranks after him. She'd thought their partnership would disintegrate when she was promoted to Detective, and he'd gone on to work for the Bureau, but it hadn't. Cassian was still her constant; her lunch partner, her drinking partner, and when the occasion called for it, her dancing partner, though they hadn't shared any tonight. It would be much harder to pretend the silence wasn't killing her, if his hand was pressed tight against her bare skin in the backless dress she's wearing, her heels tall enough she could easily press her face into his neck and lose herself in the familiar sway.

She's sure he's wondering about her, and all this forced distance she's putting between them. She's shut him out before, the summer her parents had passed in a car accident, the year she'd found herself stuck in the twist of a toxic relationship. He was always there when she inevitably emerged from the fog, patient, never holding it against her, never pressing. He simply welcomes her back, flipping off her self-destruct switch with a practiced hand. But she was out of excuses this time, her distance pure selfishness. Her pride, their friendship, the list of reasons she'd come up with in an attempt to justify her admittedly shitty actions had all seemed so fair, so logical until she'd come here. Now that she couldn't shut herself away in her dark apartment and immerse herself in work, all she could do was think about him, and how it wasn't doing her any good _to_ think about him. During the ceremony, the urge to reach out to him, take his hand, touch his knee, press her foot to his, had been so strong she'd had to curl her hands into fists, the fabric of her dress bunching in her fingers as she'd twisted it in her lap. The need to be close to him had never burned like that, low in her belly, numbing her fingertips even as they itched to reach for him. He hadn't seemed to notice, but that meant nothing. She's always admired that, how hardly anything escaped his notice. If she wore her hair slightly different, if she was feeling down, he always seemed to know.

She'd felt the stirrings of _something_ special in the beginning, his glowing praise after she'd closed her first case spinning in her head long after they'd left the bar where they'd been celebrating, his simple "you did well" keeping her up late into the night, wondering what would have happened if she'd asked him to stay after he'd walked her home, wondering if he'd even say yes. She'd thought the feelings would fade with time if she let them be, that it was all perfectly normal to find him attractive, because he was, and to think he was charming, because he _was_. She hadn't quite realized how deep she was until it was entirely too late. She'd thought if she kept close to him, it was only inevitable that the truth came out, so she'd taken the cowards way out. After spending the majority of the weekend dodging him and hating every single moment of it, she's not sure what's worse anymore—telling him, or not.

Jyn's eyes slide open, and she searches the starry skies as if she'll find the answer, written there in the golden shine. There's nothing but the whisper of a quickening breeze, chilling her nose, toying with her fringe. The copious amounts of champagne she's consumed have kept her warm thus far, but now she shivers, wrapping her arms around herself with a frown.

Behind her, there's a light shuffle of footsteps, followed by a gentle, familiar, "Can I join you?"

She turns to look over her shoulder, Cassian passing through the door she'd left open. He's got a glass of wine in one hand, her shawl in the other. Wordlessly, without thinking, and touched by his sweetness, she nods, a sudden warmth—that fondness just for him—spreading through her as he crosses the patio, leaning against the railing beside her after he drops the shawl around her shoulders. She draws it close, peaking at him from the corner of her eye. She hadn't really let herself notice before, for obvious reasons, but now she drinks him in, admiring the cut of his suit, the sharp length of his jaw. He's as handsome as ever, and his elbow just brushing hers sends a shock up her arm, between her ribs, right to her heart. She swallows, eyes flicking back to the gardens, counting the flowers on the bushes lining either side of the walkway to distract herself. The silence between them isn't uncomfortable, she's _never_ uncomfortable around Cassian, but she can feel the tension of what's unsaid, thick in the air. She's never noticed five inches of space more than she does now. She internally weighs her options, teeth digging into her lower lip. He'd sought her out, or maybe he'd passed the French doors and had seen her shivering, or maybe he'd always intended to stumble upon her. She doesn't think it's his style to come corner her, bombarding her with questions and accusations, but he does seem guarded, his brows knit together, mouth set in a serious line.

"What is it, Cassian?" She asks, though she thinks she might already know.

The still breaks around her words, and his head tilts to look down at her, eyes finding hers. He doesn't answer her question, only sets his wine glass on the railing, extending his empty hand towards her, "I was hoping you'd saved me a dance. It's tradition, remember?" He smiles slightly, but it doesn't light his face.

She accepts his invitation without a thought, inwardly kicking herself when his hand envelopes hers, warm and sure. Her resolve all but crumbles at his touch, the seeds of acceptance planted and a blooming, maybe even long before he'd come outside to join her. There was no way out but through now.

"I remember." She says, letting him sweep her to the center of the terrace, just under the crossing of the string lights.

The dance is familiar, simple steps, Cassian's always perfect, hers less so. He holds her gingerly, like he's afraid she'll shatter if he presses too hard. His chin is to her temple, his faint exhales fanning across her ear as his hand smooths around her side, brushing her bare skin before settling into the dip of her lower back, drawing her impossibly close. She suppresses the urge to shiver, draping her arm around his neck, hoping he'll think the feverish heat on her skin is from the liquor.

Dancing with Bodhi had been silly, his smile broad as he'd spun her in the circle of his arm. She'd felt like she was floating, something happy and carefree blossoming in her chest, Bodhi's hand dwarfing hers, but never suffocating. With Cassian, it felt different— _intimate._ Overhead, the music changes from pop to something soft, the keys of a piano tinkling. Her insides twist into a knot as his thumb absently traces a bump in her spine, her cheek pressed to his neck. She can smell wine, the vodka he's partial to, and something distinctively _Cassian_ ; aftershave and the ocean, a cool breeze on the waves.

"You've gotten better." He notes, mouth at her ear. Does he sound nervous? She can't be sure, but she thinks so. He hides it well as he lifts his arm, turning her once before bringing her back into his chest. His eyes are dark under the night, sharp as they track a lock of hair that falls into her face before they return to hers, guarded, but somehow hopeful.

"I've been practicing with Leia the last few weeks. She said she'd be damned if my two left feet ruined her wedding." Jyn says airily, thankful her voice doesn't tremble.

His mouth lifts on one side at that, "Sounds like her." His touch is burning into the skin of her back now, any longer and he might brand her, but she can't find the strength to pull away. She ignores the deep ache in the soles of her feet, refusing to let this moment become lost.

Inside, where she'd almost forgotten a wedding is taking place, there's a loud laugh, and she turns to catch the sight of Han and Leia pressing sloppy kisses to either of Luke's cheeks, posing for a photo with the twins' parents.

"Do you think he deserves her?" Cassian asks, low, thoughtful.

"I don't know," Jyn answers honestly, looking back up at him, "probably not. But I like that it doesn't stop him from trying." The smile he gives her then is genuine, pure and contagious. She leans close, cheek to his shoulder, hiding her own in the fabric of his suit jacket.

His hand curls tighter around hers, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he says, "You look beautiful tonight." It's a simple statement of the fact, and not even the first time she's heard it today (Chirrut had beat him to the punch, funnily enough), but she's grateful her face is pressed to his shoulder as a pleasant flush settles over her skin, warming her cheeks.

"Thank you." She murmurs, thinking that she could, maybe _should_ , tell him that he looks like a movie star, the dashing spy waiting for his Bond girl at the bar, but she misses a step, wincing as her ankle twists painfully.

"Are you alright?" Cassian asks, concerned, holding her at arm's length, his eyes flicking over her.

Jyn shakes her head, awkwardly shifting her feet, "I'm fine, it's just these awful shoes."

Cassian's grin is charmingly lopsided as he tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow, guiding her to a wooden bench, careful not to jostle her. Once she's off her feet, she exhales heavily, wiggling her constricted toes. He sits beside her at the edge of the bench, and before she can bend to remove the shoes, he's pulling one of her legs up into his lap, fiddling with the straps and buckle as her mouth forms a surprised 'o'. The shoe drops to the ground, and she sighs, twisting her foot from side to side to loosen the knot in her ankle.

She looks up at him from beneath her lashes, hoping she's discreet as she studies him; his hair is a hundred shades of dark under the string lights, the shadows clutching at his sharp cheekbones just right. She thinks about crossing the slim space between them, pressing a kiss to that dimple she knows is hidden there. His palm is hot on her calf, the silk of her dress pooling in his lap as his other hand smooths down the arch of her foot. She flinches when he kneads a sore spot, laughing a little when his brow arches, amused as he side-eyes her. She's never felt more nervous, a blushing high schooler working up the courage to finally talk to the captain of the football team. He seems to be waiting for something, but he's not rushing her, content as he works the tension from her foot. It was almost as if no time had passed, as if she hadn't spent the last three months spiraling and talking herself in circles, thinking that it would all just go away, if she forced it out, if she ignored it. She doesn't think she can any longer, and she's not sure exactly _what_ he's waiting for, but he was here, hands on her, giving her the floor, giving her a chance to speak, should she choose to take it. It was more than she would give anyone, had they treated her as she'd treated him.

All she can do is open the door, and hope he'll follow her through it.

"I'm never wearing those again." She says, tilting her head to the side to rest against the railing behind them, enjoying the feeling of his touch as his hand slides from the top of her foot to wrap around her lower calf, applying light pressure.

Cassian smiles slightly, the tiniest turn of his mouth, "Then what will you wear to your wedding? Sweatpants and an Academy t-shirt?"

She lifts her head, brow raised, "If I did?"

"You'd have my support, of course." He answers, as if it's all very obvious, and maybe it was. The 'always' is unspoken, but his eyes burn along the curve of her leg, and she knows anyway. Hand under her knee, he lifts her other foot into his lap, working the heel free.

"Marriage." She scoffs offhandedly, scrambling to appear nonchalant as his touch spreads through her, "Seems like a lot of paperwork."

The buckle on her shoe pops open, and as the heel clatters to the ground, Cassian shrugs, "I don't mind it."

"You wouldn't." She says teasingly, eyes rolling. Even so, she can't help but imagine him as a husband and father. He would be loving, true, any woman's definition of the perfect man. It dawns on her then, that someday, she will attend Cassian's wedding, and watch as he shares dances with his wife, and never her again. The urge to yank her feet back, scoop up her shoes and turn tail is sudden, and strong. She forces herself to stay put, half of her unwilling to part from him even as the other half screams for her to accept things as they were, to keep her cards close.

"How do you know if it's worth it?" Jyn asks, as he turns his head to look at her. "I mean, how do you know if it's right?"

Regrettably, his hands still on her legs as he considers, his eyes shifting to the reception inside where Bodhi and Chirrut are doing some off-kilter version of the chicken dance. Her questions are all very existential, and she hates herself for beating around the bush, dipping her toe in instead of simply walking off the ledge, but he seems happy to entertain her bullshit. He was always giving her time. "I'm not sure if it's possible to know such things, but I do think it would be worth the chance of failure, if I _did_ get it right." He looks at her then, something bright swimming in the dark of his eyes. He's looking at her like she should already know, the double-meaning in his words so plain a child could see it.

Deflecting, not quite scared of that look in his eye, but nervously easing into it, she wonders, "When did you become such a sap?"

He flicks her big toe, causing her to jump, "Around the time you started avoiding me." He counters, challenging.

Sheepish, and thoroughly caught, she turns her eyes to the gardens and pond, watches as a dragonfly flits among the reeds, moonlight glinting off its wings. Her teeth dig into her lower lip, worrying, and for a moment she wants to lie, and say he's mistaken, but Cassian isn't stupid. "You noticed, then." She finally says, lamely. He gives her a funny look, his thumb pressing into the knob of her ankle, as if to say, _of course._

"You can tell me anything, Jyn. I thought you knew that." For the first time, she can hear the confusion, the thinly veiled hurt he's been masking. Her distance had done far more harm than good.

"I do." She responds, quiet, guilt-ridden.

Frustration furrows his brow, "Then _what_ is it? You've ignored my calls, _hell_ , you've ignored me this _entire_ weekend. If I've done something to upset you—"

"You haven't." Jyn quickly interrupts, her hand touching his shoulder, "You've done nothing wrong."

He waits, observing her with great care, his eyes darting over her. This is her chance to lay it all bare, and hope the truth will set her free. The words jumble in her throat, heavy on her tongue. Will he laugh, thinking it's another one of her terrible jokes, or will he rush back inside at the very first chance, leaving her to sit in regret, wishing she'd said nothing at all, her pride in shambles? She stays silent, her hand dropping from his shoulder to knot into her dress in her lap, unable to look at him properly.

"I thought of you while I was away." He starts, then he adds, "Too much, probably." He shakes his head, laughing slightly. It's not a humorous, but bitter. "Did you?" He asks, and she wants to scoff. _Did I think of you? Only an embarrassing amount._

"I wanted to call you," She hedges, staring down at his hands, wrapped around her tiny feet to warm them, "but I didn't quite know what to say." Nothing she could think of seemed enough; true enough, poetic enough, he deserved more than some rushed, stumbling confession, and maybe that meant he deserved more than she could ever give? She wasn't a grand declaration sort of person, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd told a man she loved him, save for that last phone call with her father. Then again, she doesn't think Cassian is that sort of person, either. His care was always quiet; a shit rom-com and take-out after a long day, a gentle hand on her hunched shoulder, a willing soundboard for her drunken rants. Maybe there were things he'd been trying to tell her this entire time, and she's been too blind, too stubborn, to notice.

"What are you so afraid of, Jyn?" He asks, voice low, the soft music from inside trickling out towards them, a sweet backdrop.

She swallows, "I'm afraid... that I'll get it wrong." _That I'll be wrong for you, and that you'll know it._

"Does it feel wrong?" He wonders.

"Never." She answers, and she's not sure if he actually knows what she's talking about, but it feels like he does, and he's not running, or making a joke. He's doing nothing but coaxing, his thumb rubbing in a circle on her foot. How strange they must look to someone on the outside, together but not, her feet in his lap as if they do this every day. He's never shied from touching her, but even she knows this feels different, so he must, too, and he never does anything without purpose.

This spurs her on, and she finds that this isn't as frightening as she's led herself to believe. The knot loosens in her throat, the hollow feeling in her stomach begins to subside, even as she continues to stall. "Do you think it will mean something, even if it _does_ fail?"

Cassian looks at her, seemingly choosing his next words carefully, "I think it _already_ means something." He says quietly. He straightens her dress, and then, pulls her forward, her legs completely across his lap, her chest pressed to his side. She holds back a gasp, her nose just barely brushing his cheek. If she moves forward just an inch, she can kiss him, and he does look very kissable. "I'm afraid, too, if it helps. We're always on the cusp of something, Jyn, I know you feel it too. I've been waiting, and hoping, but I don't think I can anymore. I don't care if it burns in the end, as long as I had you. If only for a moment."

She melts into a puddle at this, and his hand slides up her leg, along her hip, titling her face towards him. "How do you always know what to say?" She wonders. She's thought of this moment a thousand times over, and she's stumbled through it each time, and here he was, executing it flawlessly without an ounce of effort.

Cassian smiles, genuine, "I may have thought about this once or twice." He admits.

Finding her courage, she asks, her eyes falling to his mouth, so close she can almost taste it, "What else have you thought about?"

His finger is still under her chin, so she pushes forward, angling her face as he moves his head to the side, catching her mouth. The kiss is tentative, his hand curling over her jaw, hers wrapping around his forearm. When they part, his forehead meets hers, resting as his eyes shut. He is completely relaxed, looking most pleased with himself. She can't resist leaning forward again, this kiss different from the last, wanting and exploratory, and she realizes, these are the first of many.

"Should we finish our dance?" He asks, when her head falls onto his shoulder, breathless. She nods, and barefoot, she accepts his waiting hand, letting him turn her into a slow circle before he brings her back in, her palm against his chest, above his heart.

They sway in place, slower than the pop music intends, until the sound of heels clicking through the doorway parts them, but only just, Cassian's hand still folded over hers.

It's Leia, looking like a princess, no, a _Queen_ , in her wedding dress. " _There_ you two are!" She exclaims, laughing, a little drunk, Jyn thinks. Her cheeks are rosy, her smile bright. "Come on, we're going to cut the cake, and put your shoes back on, Jyn, you are _not_ going barefoot in my wedding photos." She makes a hand motion for them to hurry up before she turns, going back to her guests.

"Unfortunate." Cassian drawls as Jyn's eyes drift back to her discarded heels, her nose wrinkling in distaste, mouth turning down into a pout. Reluctantly, she pulls away, grumbling under her breath as she fetches her shoes. She admires him on her way back, those fairy lights above shining against his hair, sending shadows across the dark of his eyes, caressing his cheekbones, his jaw.

"Don't worry," He says, grinning as she places her hand on his shoulder for balance, teetering on one leg as she slips a heel back on, "I'll hold you up."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! I'm [@herbologists](herbologists.tumblr.com) over on Tumblr, follow me if you love having useless mutuals. This story has no purpose, I just rarely write anything this sweet, and thought I'd post it bc we need all the love we can get in this cursed year. As always, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


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